Awakened
by Ares Is Awesome
Summary: Ares wakes up after Code of Claw, only to find that he's human!
1. Prologue

I published this story originally on and decided to add it here due to the shameless advertising on Ariadne's (Dead Chick Walking) Heaven and Hell. So... ya.

Disclaimer: I no own-eth the TUC. The Bane is now officially Hawt. Brace yourselves.

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_I'm dead. I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead, I have to be dead._ How else could he explain the brilliant light that he could see without even opening his eyes, or the warmth on his body, the absence of pain? _Good. The Underland, I am certain, will be more than happy to see me go... with a few exceptions, of course. Gregor. Aurora. Luxa. Nike and Howard, and perhaps Mareth and Andromeda._

While he might have not been in pain, he sure was stiff, as though he had spent months asleep on the ground. He sat up, feeling himself rubbing up against two others. Ares rolled his neck slowly, each pop sounding muted, as though his were stuffed with wadded fabric. It was when he went to stretch his wings that he noticed something was wrong.

His eyes flew open, though were squeezed shut almost instantly against the light. But the split second had shown him all he had needed to see. In place of where his wings had been at one time were two stubby human arms: not pale, though not coated in the thick black fur he had grown up seeing on his own limbs. The only explanation was simple, yet completely unfeasible. He was human.


	2. Chapter 1

After awhile, Ares managed to ease his eyes open and stare at the ground, squinting to see through the bright. He noticed, though his feet were bare, he was clothed in Overland attire. Dark, tight pants clung to his legs rather uncomfortably, a small belt that appeared to be trimmed with small metal pyramids at the top. He wore a white shirt decorated with some red picture, which he had mistaken for blood upon first glance. Writing bearing the word in all capitals "Underoath" was stamped into it. What this might have meant was beyond the once-flier, though he didn't really care at the moment.

Ares took a moment to study his body in human form. It was so bizarre to look down and see his _arms_, which were not pale, though were nowhere near the charcoal-colored fur he was used to seeing. That was another thing, too: seeing. In the Underland, when he was alive (assuming that he was dead now), he had never really relied on his eyes. But with the intensity of the light, he could use them. Besides, it also seemed as though his hearing had been sharply decreased; it felt as though he had something stuck in his ears. As he had no way to see what his face now looked like, Ares clumsily brought both hands-- how stubby they were!-- up to his face and gracelessly felt around.

There were two small sockets for his eyes, which were following his hands around his face, a rather minuscule nose, and a stubbly beard on his chin and cheekbones. His hair was rather long, and pulled back in some kind of stretchy cord. He plucked one out, determining that at least his hair was still the dark color he was used to. Continuing his examination, he noticed that his ears were on the side of his head in a manner the once-bat found most peculiar, though they still tapered to a slight point. Ares opened his mouth to find two straight rows of flat teeth, as opposed to the incisors that had dutifully served him for hunting, eating, and defending himself in the past.

Drawing out of his observant trance, something from his left gave a moan. Ares turned instantly to find that he was not alone. Next to him lay another human, pale as the normal Underlander, though his-- and it was a he-- features were much more murine. His ears, which protruded from his straight blond hair, were angled backwards slightly. He appeared to be around eighteen in human years, though very tall and slender; he had his hands in front of his eyes, shielding them from the bright. His fingernails were chipped and jagged, and his nose was twitching madly, seeming as if it was trying to scent things way beyond the human capacity. As though the light seared his flesh, the

figure was writhing on the ground, sobbing and moaning to himself. The flier-- human-- could make a good guess as to who was rolling on the ground in front of him.

"Calm yourself!" Ares's voice, at least, sounded normal, if a bit hoarse from not being used. He had grown irritated after watching awhile. The figure stopped instantly, and tilted his head towards Ares, though his hands stayed over his eyes.

"I know that voice," mused the other human aloud, sounding very confused; Ares couldn't blame him, and even sympathized a bit, though it was expected. After all, in life the Bane was not renowned for his thinking ability.

"Pearlpelt." The pale teenager's face softened when he heard his old identity. The claw-like hands slid away from his face, revealing two red eyes that were filling with tears. His lip trembled as he met the gaze of his most recent victim, though the ex-flier doubted if the Bane knew that he had been responsible for his death. The now-human that had spent his short life as a monster, a scourge, a bane looked ready to break down. And Ares could hardly blame him: the had-been rat did not exactly have cakewalk life.

Deep down, Ares figured that he should probably loathe the Bane for killing him. He should probably despise the monster for all the death and destruction he had caused. For gassing the nibblers. For laying Regalia to waste. But the bat knew he couldn't. Gazing at this broken teen, Ares realized that this young man-- barely more than a _boy_-- did not deserve to be hated.

"W-wha-what...?" That was all the trembling human could manage, and who could blame him? A traumatized rat being put under confusing circumstances was liable to freak out. Ares was surprised the Bane was so calm.

"Pearlpelt? Pearlpelt, it's me. It's Ares." He wasn't sure if the Bane knew the ex-bat's name, though his own seemed to have an effect.

"Where am I? Where are we? Why...?" The Bane sat up and was taking in his-- their-- surroundings, something Ares had failed to do. "Hey..." Pearlpelt must have noticed something peculiar-- though this was all peculiar-- for he had one stubby finger with one chipped and jagged nail extended.

Ares followed the indicator finger to an unconscious form lying on the ground. A small woman who appeared to be in her mid twenties was stirring. Her frame appeared to be much smaller and more fragile than either Ares's or the Bane's, with little muscle supporting her skeletal. Her skin was taut, free of wrinkles and scars, with an almost indiscernible grayish cast. Short silver hair hung loosely over the edge of her forehead, eyes and ears obscured. Though it was difficult to tell, Ares was almost certain that he was staring at--

"Twirltongue." The Bane's voice was a barely audible whisper, laced with astonishment and awe. Though Ares would not have expected to see her a moment before, it did make sense. Both the two rats' and the flier's corpses no doubt lay rotting in the same wretched cave off the Plain of Tartarus, where they would be eternally locked in their obscure dance of death.

In time they would be forgotten, all of them. The Bane would be the last to fade-- after all, who would remember the shunned flier, however heroic he might be seen as in death, over a one-in-a-million brutal rat? But it time, they would be nothing. Nothing to anybody. Perhaps they would be ink on a page, lores of long ago, though who would care enough to commit the tales to memory? No one. Not in the warring society that they had been a part of, been

shunned of. Not even would they mean anything to anybody in a scholastic world. Ares supposed that this bore no relevancy to him, for who was he among his people in his present time? He had no reason to care if his name was forgotten to men in a thousand years. That sort of thing should not bother him. So he didn't let it.


	3. Chapter 2

"Well, this certainly is odd." The eloquent tones that had made Twirltongue her name in life had not abandoned her here. Ares stood up and stretched, before offering a hand—a new gesture for him—to the female; she looked at him as though he had the plague. Somehow, Ares was a bit hurt by this.

"If we're going to be… here—wherever here is—together for Sandwich knows how long, we'd better get used to at least _tolerating_ each other. Come on, let's explore. Truce?" _Truce?_ Where did that come from? Though he supposed it didn't matter, so long as it got the three of them to get along.

He felt another palm in his own. "Truce." Twirltongue pulled herself off of the ground, dropping Ares's hand as soon as she was up, clearly uncomfortable relying on her enemy for support. She stood a good foot shorter than Ares, making her nearly a foot and a half shorter than the Bane. Pearlpelt was staring at the two oddly, likely because of his advisor's conflicting words and actions. In life, she had made it clear that humans and fliers—especially the Warrior and his bond—were enemies; here she was, accepting Ares's hand in support. Despite this, it seemed as though the scourge of the Underland had regained some mental clarity.

"I am still trying to figure this out." Twirltongue glanced around uneasily, blinking frequently in the light. "It might have something to do with that cave…" Her voice trailed off; she looked to Ares for his thoughts. He figured that after having corrupted the Bane, the persuasive gnawer didn't have much faith in his theories.

Pearlpelt, in fact, was now wandering around, inspecting the area. He still seemed to be trying to scent things, though with a nearly-blind human nose, Ares doubted it was working. He gave the curious adolescent little notice and turned back to Twirltongue.

"I was of the same opinion. I have been trying to come up with the factors that tie us together, yet I feel that this is the only thing of much importance. Our deaths were also very close in timing; however, this may mean nothing at all, yet may have some importance. The biggest connection between the three of us, as you said, is the cave, so maybe—"

"Twirltongue?" The Bane cut into their conversation, sounding a bit anxious. He stared at his chief advisor, ignoring Ares completely. "I think… I think I maybe found something."


	4. Chapter 3

Ares glanced out at the crowd uneasily. He didn't enjoy being around people, and large crowds made him nervous ever since he and Gregor had almost been stoned to death at Nerissa's coronation. That seemed like a thousand years ago. How long ago was it that Henry had been his bond? His life had started spinning out of control the day the Overlander fell, some of it for the better. Most, however, was worse. The plague, the shunning, the Bane… it was ridiculous how crazy his life had become. And now that it was over, he hadn't even been put out of his misery. He'd been dropped in the Overland with those responsible for his death. And he was human. Ares's head hurt from thinking so much.

The trio had just come down several flights of stairs—Ares found it difficult at first and had white-knuckle gripped the handrail with both hands the whole way down—and through a set of doors that had lead off of the passage that the Bane had discovered. Now they stood in between buildings that would make the Palace back in Regalia seem like a crawler next to Pearlpelt.

The air smelled foul and tainted, almost as wretched as it had been however long ago in the Firelands, when the Queen erupted. When Thalia died… Ares shook his head. He had to do a better job of blocking out his old life than he was. It was too painful to think of the silly little bat every time he smelled smog, too painful to be reminded of his old life in every crowd.

It was noisy, too. There was a constant shuffle of feet dragging, high heels clicking on the concrete. The ground sometimes would seem to shake and vibrate; a metallic rattling seeming to emanate from everywhere and nowhere. Erratic bursts of a high-pitched squealing would echo between the buildings; on street corners, a loud, even clicking could be heard. For once since he had awakened, Ares was grateful to have lost his sensitive flier hearing. No doubt he'd be on the ground, covering his ears in pain; the noise was giving him a headache as it was.

"Whoa…" The Bane seemed in awe of the city. Ares couldn't blame him; he felt overwhelmed, as well. Twirltongue's jaw was hanging open as she marveled at what stood before them, behind them, all around them. Ares took a moment to take in everything for himself. He'd never felt so trapped and so free at the same time. The city made Ares feel so small at that moment, without his wings. It would have been such fun to navigate from an aerial standpoint, with the tall buildings and tight alleyways. The tall human could feel the wind on his face, as though he was maneuvering through the skyscrapers on his wings.

The most beautiful thing, Ares felt, was the almost-unfamiliar color that rimmed the tops of the buildings. It most resembled spinner's blood, though it seemed lighter and more pure. Staring at it gave the flier a sense of happiness and serenity, with a deep overall feeling of peace resonating in him. He would not mind spending days on end just looking up.

"It's so… big… and I'm so… not…" It was definitely odd to hear the Bane say that he felt small. "The ceiling is pretty… I just want to reach up and take some. I could put it in my cave and look at it whenever I wanted." Pearlpelt let out a relaxed sigh. This was the insane beast that had murdered all those innocent nibblers in the pit? If Ares had not known before this day, he never would have guessed it.

"Yes, it's beautiful," agreed Twirltongue. "But are we going to stand here for the whole day, gawking like idiots? Let's go. I'm sure there are lots of things to see." Reluctantly, Ares lowered his gaze from the blue, with Pearlpelt soon following suit. They hadn't gone far when the Bane announced, "I'm hungry, Twirltongue." Twirltongue told him that they'd get something to eat, though Ares couldn't think of where they might. The Overland—and he was positive this was the Overland—was very, very different than anything they had been used to.

As they trudged on, Pearlpelt kept complaining that he was starving; Ares could feel hunger beginning to gnaw at his stomach as well. Once or twice, he caught Twirltongue sniffing the air, trying to locate some food, whether to shut the Bane up or to eat for herself. The flier doubted that she could smell anything with her human nose, especially through the musky smell of the city.

There were many obstacles that were perfect to trip someone who hadn't gotten walking down to a science yet. Ares himself tripped and fell several times, once landing on a metal cart that had some kind of canvas three feet over it. A scrawny man with a white apron and bushy moustache started shouting, though it was very difficult for the bat to decipher it. While he was trying to sort his feet out and pick himself up, two things happened. First, a scrawny man with a greasy apron started shouting at him in an almost indecipherable dialect of English. And, as Ares drew his breath of surprise, he smelled meat.

"Food," he announced without thinking. He ignored the shouting man and glanced at Twirltongue and Pearlpelt. The Bane was yelling at Twirltongue, who looked like she was having a migraine, for food. It was complete chaos, with the man next to the food shouting, Pearlpelt yelling, and Ares trying to get himself untangled from the food cart. People passing by on the street had stopped to stare, including two people on bicycles. Someone walked out from one of the buildings looking both agitated and amused.

"STOP!" Twirltongue's outburst cut through the clamor; everyone froze and turned towards her. The rat blushed and sighed. "Ares—" she shook her head and pulled him off of the food cart—"watch out. Bane, hush." Now she stared at the shouting man as if to hypnotize him. "We're _so_ sorry about your food. I hate to bother you, but we're… lost. And I dropped the money we had for food… would it be too bad if we had some of the, um, food my boyfriend crushed? My autistic brother—" she patted Pearlpelt on the back "—will be screaming at me otherwise." She wore a mischievous countenance as she waited for the man to respond.

"Yeah, sure. Not like I can sell it now, anyway…. Here." He handed each of them what appeared to be a squished oblong piece of meat between bread. After they turned away, Twirltongue muttered, "Quickly now… here, turn the corner here." It was obvious to Ares that she was eager to get as far away from the fiasco as fast as she could.

Ares quickly consumed the odd Overland food, which actually tasted okay, though nothing like he was used to. With a sideways glance, he noticed that Twirltongue was sniffing hers gingerly. Pearlpelt had already devoured the meat, though he held up the piece of bread. "What's this for?"


End file.
